3
In May, the weather in Yangzhou gradually grew muggy. A locust poplar tree stood in the courtyard, its branches thick with lush green leaves, casting ample shade. The sunlight slanted into the room, its golden rays falling upon the window lattice.
Mama Liu, seeing that she had truly given up any thoughts of escape, withdrew the two burly guards stationed at the door, though Du Qianqian still could not leave the gate of the small courtyard.
Rong Xuan had never appeared either. Du Qianqian guessed that he probably intended to take her back to the capital as nothing more than a plaything. He was always the one scheming against others—now that he had been outwitted by a woman with such a notorious reputation, he was unlikely to let it slide.
There was no reason for the original owner to run away after having hooked such an esteemed figure as Rong Xuan. Du Qianqian figured Rong Xuan must have said something to her that forced her to flee in order to save her own life.
No matter how nicely the rumors painted him, Rong Xuan’s true nature was far from gentle and refined.
He was a ruthless player—one who hid a dagger behind his smile and killed without leaving a trace.
Over the past few days, Luyi had gradually become less afraid of her—at least her hands no longer trembled when pouring tea or water.
The weather was fine and clear. Mama Liu, heavily made-up and dressed in gaudy finery, entered her room. Seeing her reclining on the soft couch by the window for a nap, she let out an “oh” and waved her handkerchief. “It seems you’ve come to your senses.”
In the past, if Du Qianqian had encountered such a person, she would have already lashed out with her whip to see if they dared to act so arrogantly. But now this body was weak—slim arms and legs, unable to lift or carry anything. Even if she tried to fight, she couldn’t overpower the plump Mama Liu.
“Make yourself pretty. We’re going to the county magistrate’s residence shortly.”
Du Qianqian lowered her gaze and asked, “What are we going there for?”
Mama Liu shot her a contemptuous glance. “The magistrate is hosting a banquet for Master Rong today. What do you think we’re taking you there for? Think it over carefully yourself.”
So it was to offer her up to please Rong Xuan.
If it had been anyone else, it might not have mattered—but in her heart, Rong Xuan was still that arrogant, brooding youth with heavy thoughts. She remembered that his features were more delicate than those of most men, especially his eyes—deep and unfathomable like a lake. Even at such a young age, he carried himself with extraordinary poise.
Du Qianqian went along with her words. “I understand.”
Seeing her so compliant, Mama Liu said no more. She couldn’t afford to let Shen Qianqian cause any trouble—after all, she had sold her for three thousand taels of silver.
A carriage waited at the side gate. Following instructions, Luyi helped her with her makeup and arranged her hair.
Looking at Luyi, Du Qianqian was often reminded of Baizhu, the maidservant who had been by her side since childhood. After she died, Baizhu had wanted to leave the Chen household, but Chen Queyu refused to let her go. At least he still had some humanity left—he hadn’t mistreated her.
During those eight years of drifting as a restless ghost, Du Qianqian had never discovered who had poisoned her.
Chen Queyu had also never ordered an investigation. Thinking of this, she couldn’t help but feel a pang of sorrow—after all, she had been his lawfully wedded wife, and yet even in death, he couldn’t be bothered to care.
In the late spring and early summer, Du Qianqian wore a pale pink chest-high ruqun, layered with misty silk gauze. Her hair was coiled high, revealing her slender, fair neck. Her eyes were bright and her teeth white, her figure soft and graceful.
The carriage rumbled slowly toward the magistrate’s residence. Du Qianqian’s heart was calm and unafraid. She had confidence that Rong Xuan would not discover that Shen Qianqian was now a different person—but she was afraid that Rong Xuan might still want her dead.
Rong Xuan was famous for being a gentleman of refined character, and equally famous for keeping his distance from women.
During those eight years, Du Qianqian had never heard anyone mention him taking a wife or keeping concubines. She suspected that Rong Xuan might actually despise women—or, to think even more absurdly, perhaps he preferred men.
The preference for male companions was hardly unheard of in any era.
As she was lost in thought, the carriage arrived at the magistrate’s residence. Two small stone lions stood before the gate, giving it an air of stately elegance.
Du Qianqian was led by a maidservant to the rear garden. A banquet had been set up in the pavilion at the center, where many ladies had gathered. The magistrate’s wife sat at the lower western seat, dressed in brilliant red brocade. Her coiffure was adorned with a gold-wrought plum blossom hairpin, and she wore a pair of red jadeite drop earrings, looking every bit the picture of nobility and grace.
Before coming, Mama Liu had warned her that the magistrate’s wife came from the wealthiest family in Yangzhou and was extremely particular about etiquette and formality. She had told Du Qianqian to behave herself today and to put away all those dirty, unsavory tricks.
The magistrate’s wife seemed to recognize her. Her phoenix eyes glanced lightly in her direction, and she said with a smile, “Miss Shen has arrived.”
Instantly, everyone’s gaze turned toward her.
Du Qianqian was exquisitely made-up that day, wearing a pleated skirt of rosy clouds embroidered with layered pearls and gossamer—light and ethereal. A sapphire-and-turquoise hairpin was tucked into her coiffure, with pearl drop earrings dangling beside her cheeks. Her face was as rosy as a peach, her skin as smooth as congealed cream. A plum-blossom-shaped huadian adorned the center of her brow, and her phoenix eyes brimmed with alluring charm. A gentle breeze stirred her garments, making her appear ever more delicate and captivating.
There was no doubt—Du Qianqian was the most beautiful girl present.
She stepped forward and performed a curtsey. “My apologies for keeping you waiting, madam.”
The magistrate’s wife’s smile did not reach her eyes. She nodded and indicated an empty seat. “Have a seat first. The magistrate and Master Rong are still discussing matters in the front hall.”
The seat was far from favorable, but Du Qianqian showed no displeasure and sat down as directed. Her composed, neither humble nor arrogant demeanor earned surprised glances from several of the ladies and young misses present. The once haughty beauty who had relied on her looks now seemed obedient and sensible—they wondered what scheme she was brewing.
The pavilion stood by the edge of the lake, with a gentle breeze brushing past their ears, cool and refreshing.
She had offended many people in the past, and now they all seemed intent on taking aim at her. Foremost among them was the magistrate’s daughter, Zhao Luanqing. Spoiled since childhood, the young lady had a rather headstrong temperament. She had suffered no small number of defeats at Shen Qianqian’s hands in years past—any young gentleman she fancied would inevitably have his soul stolen away by that vixen.
And now, it seemed, even Master Rong was no exception. But what did this Du Qianqian have that could compare to her? Aside from a pretty face, she was completely worthless—and with a heart as venomous as a scorpion’s to boot.
It infuriated her!
“Ha, I don’t know how Miss Shen has the nerve to go on living. If I had taken someone’s life, I would have drowned myself long ago.” The magistrate’s daughter continued in a most contemptuous tone, “Truly despicable.”
Du Qianqian was no less sharp-tongued than she was—but this was hardly the right time to talk back. The disparity in their status was plain to see, and the magistrate’s wife had made no move to stop her daughter’s mockery, which suggested she tacitly approved.
A bent arm couldn’t twist against a thigh. A few harsh words wouldn’t cost her any flesh. She lowered her gaze and adopted a submissive attitude. “What the young miss says is right. I will certainly mend my ways from now on.”
As her words fell, everyone present was stunned.
Zhao Luanqing assumed she was merely putting on an act and refused to believe that such a woman could ever truly repent. But Du Qianqian’s words were flawlessly delivered, leaving no opening for attack—and it made her stomp her foot in frustration.
A maidservant stepped forward to announce, “The magistrate and Master Rong are making their way toward the pavilion. They wish to enjoy the flowers together.”
The magistrate’s wife pondered for a moment, then said, “See that you attend to them properly.”
“Yes, madam.”
Shifting her tone, she turned to Du Qianqian and said, “Miss Shen doesn’t look very well. I heard you’ve been staying indoors recuperating from an illness these past few days. It seems you haven’t fully recovered yet. I’ll have someone escort you back.”
The “recuperating from illness” story was surely Mama Liu’s fabrication—she could hardly tell outsiders that she had nearly beaten Shen Qianqian to death for attempting to escape.
The magistrate’s wife was clearly dismissing her, most likely to keep her from crossing paths with Rong Xuan. Her daughter had deep feelings for him, and as a mother, she naturally wanted to create opportunities for her.
Du Qianqian went along with the dismissal. “I am indeed feeling a bit unwell. Thank you for your understanding, madam.”
The magistrate’s wife gazed at her with deep, searching eyes, as if finding it hard to believe she would leave so easily. “Xiaozhu, escort Miss Shen out.”
Without even catching a glimpse of Rong Xuan’s face, Du Qianqian was sent straight back to her courtyard. Truth be told, not seeing him was for the best—she was afraid of slipping up. If Rong Xuan took her for a monster and disposed of her with a single stroke, she would have died far too unjustly.
Mama Liu was stunned to see her back so soon, her glare like daggers cutting into her. “Did you see Master Rong?”
Du Qianqian shook her head honestly, her eyes innocent. “The magistrate’s wife doesn’t seem to like me much. After just a few words, she had someone send me back.”
Mama Liu rolled her eyes at her, then twisted her waist as she stepped forward and grabbed her ear. “You’ve always had a thick skin—how come this time you obediently came back when they sent you away? Master Rong hasn’t set foot in this courtyard for over ten days. Let me tell you, if I don’t get those three thousand taels of silver for selling you, you’ll be sold off to a brothel to be ridden by a thousand men!”
Du Qianqian’s ear was pinched red. “Ouch, ouch, ouch!”
Mama Liu let go. “Hmph. Remember this pain.”
After she left with a sway of her hips, Du Qianqian spat in disgust. She really was cursed with bad luck—her previous life had been ill-fated enough, and now this life was even worse.
That night, the normally quiet courtyard suddenly came alive with commotion.
Luyi went out to gather news, then came running back with a face full of delight. “Miss! This servant heard that Master Rong has come to the courtyard tonight!”
Du Qianqian had just finished her bath, her hair still slightly damp. Her fair face was flushed pink from the steam, like a tender peach—so lovely one couldn’t help but want to take a bite. She continued drying her hair as she said, “Let him come, then.”
Luyi was clearly far more excited than she was. “Miss, Master Rong is staying the night! Mama Liu said he’ll be arriving at our courtyard any moment now.”
Du Qianqian’s fingers paused mid-motion, and a sudden fear gripped her. “Could you go tell Mama Liu that I’ve already gone to sleep?”
Luyi shrank her neck and lowered her head.
No sooner had she spoken than sounds came from beyond the courtyard gate.
With a creak, the door was pushed open. A man stepped in, wearing black boots and a moon-white casual robe. His figure was tall and straight, and a purple-gold crown bound his hair atop his head. Beneath fine brows were a pair of exquisite peach-blossom eyes, their corners slightly upturned, their depths as dark and unfathomable as a lake. His features were elegant, his appearance exceptionally striking—so much so that one could even describe him as breathtakingly beautiful, rivaling the most stunning of women.
Rong Xuan’s cool gaze swept over her. His eyes darkened, and the corners of his lips curved upward.
With a faint, gentle smile, his bearing grew even more refined. “You, leave first.”
The command was directed at Luyi. The young maid thought to herself how fortunate her mistress was—to follow such a warm and gentle man, one whose smile could topple cities, whose voice was so soft. She lowered her head and hurriedly withdrew, closing the door behind her.
The moment Luyi was gone, Rong Xuan’s expression shifted completely. The gentle smile turned cold, and his sharp gaze darkened. He slowly advanced toward Du Qianqian, idly rubbing the thumb ring on his finger.
Du Qianqian was so frightened by him that she instinctively backed away, until there was nowhere left to go and she tumbled onto the bed. Rong Xuan looked down at her from above, his eyes utterly devoid of emotion. He let out a soft laugh, then enunciated each word:
“Why aren’t you dead yet?”
**